


Raging Tempests

by ResplendentRi



Series: Amazing Grace [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age II - Act 2, Dragon Age II Spoilers, F/M, Friendship, Implied Mpreg, Kid Fic, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, Slow Burn, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:45:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResplendentRi/pseuds/ResplendentRi
Summary: Three years after Hawke returned from his expedition into the Deep Roads, and two years and some change after the healer of Darktown brought his daughter into the world, Kirkwall continues to be Kirkwall and the tale continues... Not only of its future Champion and his inner circle, but of the little girl who may be destined to reach even greater heights than Hawke.





	1. Repentance

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the beginning of the next part of Grace's story! Now that we're in Act 2 proper, we'll be trying to get through the main quests that end up being altered by necessity. This means that while the outcomes of the quests, and most of the quest itself will be nearly the same, I am going to take some liberties where I feel like it fits the story better, or where it would just translate better to the page. No one wants to read a 1:1 transcript of the quests anyway, right?
> 
> Welcome back, and enjoy!

"Papa!" The urgent whisper in his ear and tiny heels digging into his ribs made him pause, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yes, Love?" he asked. Grace scrunched up her nose and buried her face right next to his ear.

"Lamby potty," she whispered shyly.

"Oh," Anders said. He carefully started to untuck the fabric wrapped around his chest, crouching down so that when Grace started squirming for freedom she could slide from his back and to the floor. Once he felt the weight of the toddler disappear from his back, he stood up and tightened the wrap again, watching her run back to the partition in the back of the clinic with her clumsy, heavy toddler's gait. The clinic was usually fairly empty at this time of day, when the mothers with sick children who came in in the morning had left to try to find dinner, and the men who would come in later with injuries either work or alcohol-related were still occupied. It was the slow period he used to catch up on his errands around the clinic, making potions and washing bandages. He reached down to pick up the next wet bandage from the basket, when he heard an excited squeal from the clinic door.

"Andos!" the little voice babbled. He turned and smiled when he saw the near-three-year-old coming at him full speed.

"Oof!" he grunted when she crashed into his knees. "Hello there, Andie." He leaned down to her level once he pried her arms free from around his legs. "Did you come to play with Grace today?" he asked. The little girl nodded shyly.

"Healer, I know I was just in last week," Leighann said, sheepishly following her baby sister. "But Tomas' ship is in port today, and I don't feel much like seeing him. Is it alright if we spend some time here? I can help out, I can watch the girls and help clean."

"By all means," Anders said. "I appreciate all the help I can get. How have you been feeling? Is the nausea any better?" The girl sighed, leaning on one of the sturdy cots and putting a hand to the slight, barely-noticeable swell of her stomach.

"It's like being seasick all the time," she said. "But the herbs you gave me have helped me to keep it down, at least."

"Make sure to tell me if it gets worse again," Anders said. Without thinking twice, he scooped the little girl off the ground with him when he stood, perching her on his hip. Andie looked up at the bandages hanging to dry around the clinic, and reached out for one right in front of her. Anders took her little wrist and diverted it from her goal, bouncing her to make up for it.

"If it gets worse again, I think I'll be one of your patients," Leighann groaned. "And where is your little lamb, Healer?" she asked.

"Papa! Papa!" As if on cue, Grace came running out from the back and stood expectantly in front of Anders, arms up and waiting to be picked up. Anders bent down and scooped her up onto his other hip, making both girls giggle.

"Hi Kace!" Andie said, waving excitedly. Grace put the hand that gripped Lamby's leg to her lips and rested her cheek on Anders' shoulder, giving a shy wave in response. Anders carried both girls across the clinic, setting them down in a corner with a couple of short stools and a chair.

"You're nearly too heavy for me to carry both of you, girls," he said, staying crouched in front of them after he'd put them down. "Now, I need you two to stay over here and play quietly for Leighann while I do some chores. Can you do that for me?" he asked. They stared at him blankly for a moment, and then Grace turned and went straight to the pile of old wooden blocks sitting in a basket on the floor.

"Annie, yook!" she said, holding up two blocks, one in each pudgy little hand. Andie turned and went over to her, sitting down on the floor and dumping out the basket to get at all the blocks. The blocks had been a gift to the clinic from Leandra as soon as Grace had been old enough to start getting into trouble and needed more entertainment than just hanging off of Anders' back or chest while the clinic was open. Satisfied, Anders stood up, straightening out a crick in his back with a wince of pain. He moved over to the fire, giving the potion that was brewing a stir to keep the elfroot from settling at the bottom. It still had a couple hours before it had reached the maximum potency, judging by the smell and the color. He bent down and stirred the embers with a stick, then threw a few pieces of wood on it to keep it burning hot.

Almost as soon as that was done, patients started to filter in, taking up Anders' attention. Whenever he could, he glanced over at the two little girls in the corner and gave Leighann a grateful smile when he saw that she'd moved over to keep a closer eye on them.

Anders kept healing, closing wounds and breaking fevers, until the small rush began to thin out and it was just a few people left with exhaustion or a milder illness (in Darktown, even the mildest illness could become lethal if untreated, and sometimes a day without work meant a day without food). Magic flowed from him into the leg of a teenage boy, his eyes closed and his brow knit as he found the edges of the break with his magic and held it in place while it knit back together. When the bone was healed, he closed the flesh over that, only opening his eyes and breaking his concentration when he knew the wound was healed.

His head swam suddenly from the rush of cutting off the flow of magic and he staggered, stumbling when the end of his staff missed the mark he'd tried to hit to keep himself upright. Instead of the ground or the edge of the table, however, he hit a firm, solid shape, leaning his cheek against cold armor.

"Swooning into my arms?" the amused brogue of the man in question rumbled in his chest. "A bit cliche, don't you think?" Anders splayed his hand against the prince's shining white breastplate and pushed himself back upright. Their fingers brushed when Sebastian's hand came to rest on Anders' staff, bringing a blush to Sebastian's cheeks as he pulled his hand away quickly.

"Da!" Grace's squeal of delight broke them out of the tension that hung between them. Anders watched as Sebastian's face lit up in a grin and he crouched down, holding out his arms for the toddler to come running to him. Her little feet pounded against the packed earth floor as she threw herself into his arms. He scooped her up and spun on his toes, squeezing a peal of laughter out of her.

"There she is!" Sebastian exclaimed. "And how is my wee little princess doing today?" Anders sighed.

"Sebastian, you  _know_ how I feel about calling her that," he argued. There wasn't much fire in it - they'd tread the ground over that argument so often that all that was left was scattered coals.

"It's just a pet name, Anders. You should know I mean it as nothing but. Unless I can convince you to be my prince-consort," he said, bouncing Grace on his hip and turning his piercing blue eyes full onto Anders. Anders smiled, out of fondness and out of exasperation, raising one eyebrow.

"What has you so flirtatious today?" he asked. "Not that I'm  _complaining_ , mind, but you seem to be in rare form."

"It's been a while since I've been able to come down to see you," Sebastian said. "Is that not reason enough to be joyful?" He pressed a kiss to the round cheek of the toddler on his hip, and Grace's bright blue eyes (Sebastian's eyes, but also the electric blue color of lyrium, of Justice and the Fade) squeezed shut as she giggled. But Anders wasn't as easily distracted as a two-year-old, and it didn't take a genius to notice that there was something off about the rogue's behavior, about the way that he seemed almost reluctant to set Grace down again as if he needed constant reassurance that she was safe. So he crossed his arms and shifted his weight pointedly, waiting for the Starkhaven prince to crack.

Sebastian glanced at Anders, and then his shoulders fell slightly, and his grin faded.

"Alright, I suppose there is something else," he said, reluctantly capitulating. Anders waited while he mulled over what he was trying to say. "Will you meet me at Hawke's tonight?" he asked, which was not quite what Anders expected. "After you put out the lanterns. I have something to tell both of you."

"And Grace?" Anders asked, ignoring the way that worry made his chest feel tight, settled in right between his lungs.

"Will like as not be exhausted, and if not I'm sure she'd love to spend time with her Ana Hawke." The nickname for Hawke's mother had come from Grace's early attempts to wrap her tongue around the name  _Leandra_ and getting three out of seven letters for her trouble. She was the closest Grace would ever have to a grandmother, often Anders' preferred babysitter when Hawke needed him to come along on one of his missions, so the nickname being close to Nana seemed like a fitting compromise.

Anders sighed and looked over Sebastian again, concerned at the sleepless worry that hid in the tension of his brow.

"Alright," he said. "Does Hawke know we're coming?"

"I left a note with his footman," Sebastian said. Anders smiled.

"In that case," he said. "I hope you came down here ready to work."

"Of course, Anders." Reluctantly, as if Anders had a dagger to his throat, Sebastian set Grace back down on the floor to let her go back to playing with Andie. Once she ran off, he bowed teasingly. "I am at your disposal."

Two years of helping Anders in the clinic had given the Chantry brother a rapport with the people of Darktown. He held their hands and prayed with them, he wrung out their fever-cloths and, when someone was brought or Anders called for someone even his miracles couldn't save, Sebastian administered last rites. Often, Anders had listened, as either he or one of his assistants helped Sebastian arrange the body, and thought that death didn't seem so terrible if Sebastian's soft, lilting voice was there to ease the way. He'd been fighting a losing battle now for two years not to come to admire the prince for how easily he gave his service to these people who were so often ignored by the rest of the clergy who claimed to spread the light of the Maker.

Sebastian's rapport with Anders had evolved as well. The intimacy of Grace's birth still lingered around them with the little girl herself, and they joked and teased and flirted with one another like they'd been doing it their whole lives. Sebastian had seen Anders screaming and weak and bloody, and he'd stayed. If Anders respected him for nothing else, he would have earned respect just for that. But even for how much they flirted, it was never meant to go anywhere. They never discussed whether what they had needed any sort of direction. Their love for Grace was more important to either than any chemistry they shared, but that chemistry was there nonetheless in the way that Sebastian still made time to come help in the clinic at least once every fortnight, and in the sunlight of the archer's sheepish smile when he caught him staring across the clinic.

When he was with Sebastian, Anders' fear abated. The Chant which he'd been forced to learn in his youth as an attack on everything he was and never wanted to be sounded sweeter when it came from Sebastian's tongue. Not that he ever stopped believing in Andraste and the Maker, but the humans who claimed to work for them had all but lost Anders' trust long ago.

Hawke and Leandra had insisted on giving Anders a key to their cellar door when they discovered it was so close to his clinic, on the off chance that Anders and Grace needed a safe place to hide. But that night, after the lanterns were put out, Anders slung a sleepy Grace onto his back and climbed slowly up the ladder. Sebastian would already be waiting with Hawke, having left a few hours before when the patients started to taper off again.

"Oh, Master Anders!" Bodahn, Hawke's footman, was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner when Anders opened the cellar door. He dried his hands quickly. "Master Hawke and Prince Sebastian are waiting for you in the library, I think, Messere," the dwarf said. "I can show you the way if you need, of course."

"No, that's alright," Anders said. "I would hope I've learned my away around by now, with how often I'm here."

"Quite right, Messere, quite right," Bodahn said. "And, ah, does the little lady need anything?"

"Not right now." Anders glanced over his shoulder, but couldn't see more than the top of Grace's blond head, her cheek pressed to his back. He smiled. "I think the little lady is ready for bed."

"Oh!" Bodahn whispered. "Oh, dear. My deepest apologies, Messere."

"Have a good night, Bodahn," Anders said.

"Thank you, Messere, and to you a wonderful night as well, Messere."

Anders made his way to the library, to find Sebastian pacing anxiously across the floor while Hawke leaned against the fireplace mantle. A sense of unease began to twist in Anders' gut, as he carefully unwrapped Grace and set her down on the floor. She weaved a little bit, rubbing her eyes sleepily with one hand as the other clutched her well-loved stuffed lamb to her chest. Hawke bent down to meet her and she toddled to him immediately, indulging him with two kisses on his furry cheek, one from her and one from Lamby. Before Hawke could pick her up, she spun out of his reach and toddled over to his dog, instead. She dropped to all fours in front of the mabari, who lifted his head and then sprawled out fully on his side, making room for Grace to curl up next to him with her head on his chest. He licked her patiently as she fell asleep, and then he dropped his head back down on the floor with a heavy sigh.

"Carver used to fall asleep like that," Hawke said fondly, a pinch of grief in his brow. "I bet he misses being flopped on." Anders had to admit, much as he still preferred cats over dogs, he would gladly trust Hawke's mabari with Grace as much as any other member of the family.

"So what is all of this about, Sebastian?" Anders asked, turning to the prince. Sebastian, who had stopped pacing when Anders had come in, looked anxious enough to start again with little provocation.

"I know who hired the mercenaries," Sebastian said. Suddenly, with crystal clarity, it made sense. His mounting anxiety, the relief when he'd seen that Grace was safe.

"You think they know about Grace."

Her Highness Grace Andrea Vael, Princess of Starkhaven. It was a high title for a little girl in the sewers of Darktown. But no one who had stood in the Chantry when she was baptized on her name day, in a gown that had last seen Lady Leandra Hawke and her brother as babes, would now recognize the little toddler who wore clothes that, while not  _as_ tattered as her father's, were far from the finery of a princess.

"I know they do," Sebastian said. "If it were just me, perhaps I could have claimed the shelter of the Chantry and avoided their notice, but with two living Vaels... I fear that may be two too many.

"Then we have to strike before they do," Hawke said. "Grace can stay here with Mother in the meantime." Sebastian looked at the warrior, and then at Anders, who nodded. The prince's expression was stoic, but his eyes revealed the grief and relief at war in his heart. Anders wanted to reach out to him, but he stayed where he was.

"Did you think we would leave you to face this alone?" he asked instead, trying to be reassuring.

"I...don't know what I thought," Sebastian admitted. "I'm sorry, Anders, that I've made my problem into yours as well. You had enough to worry about."

"Don't be a fool, Sebastian. I want to help because you're my friend." The word sounded incomplete, hollow, but Anders supposed the feeling would grow into the shape of the thing now that he'd said it aloud.

"Besides," Hawke added, "if anything happened to you then that would make  _me_ the most bewitching bachelor in Kirkwall, and I can't work under that kind of pressure." Sebastian laughed, a surprised little chuckle that made Anders' heart skip.

"Very well then, if you insist. The woman's name is Lady Harimann," Sebastian said. He sat down in one of the chairs, putting his chin on the curled knuckles of one hand. "It makes no sense - the Harimanns had always been supporters of our family - Lady Harimann and my mother were close friends! For them to hire mercenaries to wipe out my entire family... I shudder to think what may be the cause."

Anders crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Being a mage gave him an intimate background in why people may have that kind of change of heart, and it was never a good thing.

"I don't know for certain," he said. "But whatever it is, Hawke and I will be with you." When he opened his eyes again, Sebastian had looked away, down at the toddler sleeping curled up on Hawke's mabari. Anders' expression softened in sympathy. He remembered a few short years ago when he'd been sitting in that same chair (or another just like it), when Sebastian had knelt at his feet and taken his hands and promised him as long as he breathed Grace would have a home.

Anders had no home or safe harbor to offer Sebastian. He had nothing of himself that was worthy of offering to anyone.

"I had hoped that giving her my name would protect her, not put her in more danger," Sebastian said softly.

"Your name gives her somewhere to come from," Anders said. "It tells her that she's part of a legacy. It's...more than I can offer her, in that regard." Sebastian looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back.

"We'll make sure nothing happens to her," Hawke said decisively. "Or to you, Sebastian."

"I'm grateful to have a friend like you, Hawke," Sebastian said. Hawke smiled at him.

"Should we prepare to leave for Starkhaven in the morning?" he asked.

"If that would be possible for both of you. I may have already... Ah,  _discussed_ the matter of my absence with the Grand Cleric," Sebastian admitted.

"First thing it is, then! Well, we probably won't be able to  _leave_ first thing, but we'll be ready to, just in case. For tonight, there's more than enough room for both of you to stay here. It's long past Gracie's bedtime, anyway."

* * *

They left for the Harimann estate the next morning, when the sun had been up for a couple hours and they could use Varric's connections to secure a quick and subtle passage through the mountains and up to Starkhaven. Grace was left in the expert care of her Ana Hawke, and seemed none the wiser that she wouldn't see Anders for a couple of weeks. While they were waiting for transport Hawke had also managed to convince Fenris to do a sweep of the estate after nightfall, and Aveline was on alert for any mercenary activity in Hightown. Between the two warriors (one of whom commanded the whole of the Kirkwall city guard), Anders knew that Grace couldn't possibly be in safer hands.

Still, it was the first time Anders had been away from his daughter for longer than one of Hawke's trips to the Wounded Coast, and the anxiety began to set in as the cart wheels trundled along, taking him further from his little girl with every second. Hawke gave him a reassuring smile from across the back of the wagon.

"Worried about leaving the clinic on such short notice?" he asked, nudging Anders' foot with his own. Sebastian, sitting so close to Anders' side that their thighs touched in the hay, shook his head.

"Worried about Grace, is it?" he asked. Anders sighed and nodded, his hand unconsciously finding his staff like a comfort item.

"I'm worried she'll miss me," he said. "That she's too young to understand that we left to protect her." Sebastian's hand found his, the archer's glove soft as every part of the prince's hand was aside from the bowstring calluses on his fingertips.

"She'll understand, Anders," he said reassuringly, rubbing his thumb along the edge of Anders'. "Maybe not right now, but in time. And she'll be so pleased to see you again when we return that she'll have forgotten completely you were gone." Anders smiled, sliding his fingers through Sebastian's and squeezing his hand.

"I know," he said. "Call it a father's foolish worry." He could tell Sebastian and Hawke his other fear, the ones that came from growing up in the Circle, the ones that still haunted him as much as the imagined sound of templar full plate. But even that fear, Leandra was prepared for - she wasn't a mage, but she had married and loved one, and more importantly she had raised one. Even if Grace's magic came out while Anders was gone, he knew Leandra would never go to the Templars.

But no matter how safe Anders felt around Sebastian, no matter how much Sebastian's devotion to the Maker was an asset in the clinic, whether it was to give support to the ill or soothe the grief of surviving family, it was still a wall that stood between them at about knee height. He could look past it, certainly, could see the good, earnest nature of the man. But if he wasn't careful, he could trip and sprawl face first into the mud.

He had no intention of falling for Sebastian, but he cared about him. For Grace's sake, obviously.

The trip to the Harimann estate took about six days. The village along the road was reluctant to speak at all about them, but Hawke plied some fearful rumors out of the innkeeper with a couple extra silvers. No one would take them close to the estate, so they had to rent horses for the half hour's ride. The grounds to the Harimann estate were dark and overgrown, with creeping vines across a seldom-crossed path that threatened to trip the horses as they passed. Anders felt a chill go up his spine as their horses edged closer. The stables were equally overgrown, but there was fresh rainwater for the horses and the stalls were at least sound enough to shelter the uneasy animals. The estate itself was dark and overcast, a thick cloud like an unbroken thunderstorm hovering heavy over the grounds and pressing in around Anders' ears. He felt Justice rankle inside him like nausea in the pit of his stomach. His grip on his staff tightened as he drew it from his back, not taking his eyes off of the stairs leading to the front doors.

"Can you sense something?" Sebastian asked, his own hand reaching for his bow.

"Blood magic," Anders and Justice said as one, like a deeper timbre laid over his own voice. It wasn't distinct enough for Sebastian to notice, not without the fade cracking through his skin, but Hawke glanced at him.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm certain," Anders said, his voice his own again.

"Then we must tread carefully," Sebastian said. The front door was locked, but the door to the servants' quarters wasn't. The first room they entered was empty, but for the stone floor soaked with old bloodstains.

"Maker have mercy," Sebastian gasped. Anders growled, spinning his staff into an attack position just as demons rose from the floor in a fluid, writhing motion.

"Looks like we have company," Hawke quipped, drawing his sword as Sebastian nocked his first arrow and let it fly. Between the three of them, the shades stood no chance. Sebastian reached into the ichor splattered across the floor and plucked out a small seal.

"I think we may have found what happened to the servants," Hawke said, as Anders carefully healed a bruise on his arm. Sebastian grimaced, his expression tight as he wiped the seal clean on his shirt. Anders glanced over and saw his lips moving, recognized the words as the last rites that he administered too often in the clinic as he slipped the seal into one of the pockets on his belt. Once he was done with Hawke, Anders moved over to Sebastian and gently touched the small of his back, ignoring the bloom of warmth that filled him when the prince relaxed into his touch without even a hint of magic, as if Anders' touch itself was healing enough.

"Carry it with you if you need it to steel yourself," he murmured to him, quiet while Hawke poked through the ichor to see if there was anything worth saving. "But please, don't let it weigh you down. There was nothing you could have done different to save them."

"I know," Sebastian said, leaning into Anders' touch, close enough that their shoulders touched for a moment. "Like as not they were lost long before Lady Harimann even hired the mercenaries to attack my family." Then, loud enough for Hawke to hear: "Let's move on."

In the wine cellar they found the eldest Harimann child, so drunk she was completely blind to their presence. Sebastian called out to her, tried to snap her out of her stupor, but she didn't even acknowledge his presence.

"This is no ordinary wine," Sebastian murmured, his blue eyes troubled as he watched the young lady lash out at the wine barrel in anger. Anders could feel the demonic energy around her, lapping at her legs and pressing out like an ooze, or an odorous aura that threatened to corrupt anything it touched, and he felt a headache throbbing at his temples.

"We need to keep going," he said, half expecting the demon to leap from the woman's body and throw itself at him. Having Justice inside him made him nigh-invulnerable to possession, but ever since he'd carried Grace something about him had made him more irresistible to demons nonetheless. Luckily, he didn't need to do much to convince Sebastian and Hawke, who were just as unsettled even without knowing the specific reason for their feelings. They followed Anders as he climbed the stairs to the main part of the house and stood in the hallway, trying to figure out which way to go.

"Hold," Sebastian raised a hand, his voice breaking the preternatural stillness. "Do you hear that?" Through the silence Anders heard a girl sob in a nearby room. Sebastian was off in the next instant, leaving Anders and Hawke to jog after him. Sebastian threw open the door, and froze. Anders felt the heavy drag of demonic influence, and when he looked past Sebastian to see in the room he felt a wave of anger and nausea hit him.

Another of the Harimanns stood in the middle of the room in front of a burning brazier, pacing back and forth in front of two elves. The male elf was holding a dagger to the throat of the female, who was crying in fear.

"Andraste's grace," Sebastian whispered. "What are you  _doing_ , Brett?" The Harimann boy didn't acknowledge their presence, but the male elf was not as deaf as his master and he turned, drawing his knife on Sebastian instead. Before Anders could make a move to draw his staff and cast a barrier, Sebastian took a decisive step forward and punched the elf square in the nose, crumpling him instantly to the ground.

Which, really, was just inconveniently attractive. Anders was so distracted by the display that he didn't notice the terrified girl fleeing, except that she pushed past him and made him stumble out of the way.

"Was he really about to sacrifice them?" Hawke asked, stepping into the room and looking at the burning brazier and the unconscious elf. "Nicely done, Sebastian." Then, with a knowing smirk; "isn't that right, Anders?"

Anders' only vindication was that when Sebastian looked at him, he at least had the decency to look a little sheepish, running his fingers over his knuckles.

"He didn't even notice that anything happened," Sebastian said, looking at the Harimann boy, who continued ranting about how much blood he would need for his vision. "Oh, Brett... He was younger than Flora and I, too young to play with us when we were children, but always too stubborn to want to be left behind. But he would never be capable of-- of anything like this."

"He's in thrall to a demon," Anders said. "Flora, too. That's what is controlling them, not their own action. We need to move on and find the source before there's no salvation for them." He watched a muscle tick at the edge of Sebastian's jaw, before the archer managed a tight nod.

"Then let's keep looking," he said, determination and despair at war in his voice. Hawke stood up from the chest he'd found in the corner of the room, holding aloft a small book.

"I think I may have found something," he said, offering it to Sebastian. "It looks like it may be someone's diary."

"This is Flora's," Sebastian said, thumbing through it. Storm clouds darkened his blue eyes as he read the recent entries. The diary stopped abruptly with jagged edges of torn-out pages. "She knew her mother was planning something," he said, "but the next few pages are missing. Maybe she tore them out to keep them safe?"

"Or someone else tore them out because of what was on them," Hawke suggested.

"Lady Harimann, then, or maybe... We haven't found Ruxton yet, either. Let's check the master bedroom." Sebastian turned and took the lead, fingers trailing along the walls as if he was mapping the house from his memory.

"My mother brought me with her when she came to visit Lady Harimann, sometimes. Flora and I spent hours playing together in these halls," he said. "It seems...like a wholly different life, now." Anders said nothing; he couldn't imagine how he would feel to return to the farm he'd spent the first twelve years of his life on. It had been over half his life now since he considered that farm home, he didn't even know if he'd recognize it, or if it was still standing.

They froze in the middle of the hallway when they heard a loud moan and a deep chuckle from the master bedroom.

"Do we have to?" Hawke asked. Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked in a breath.

"I don't want to," he said. "But there may be more to find about Lady Harimann's plan."

"You're both acting like blushing virgins," Anders chided, pushing the cracked door wholly open. And then he stopped. There was an older man in the room, with salt and pepper hair that...definitely covered his chest and even more. He was sitting stark naked on the bed, his slightly saggy skin quivering with the lingering paroxysms of lust that seized him, the view of his member thankfully blocked by the corseted elf kneeling on the floor between his spread knees. However, the way that her head was bobbing left absolutely no room to interpret what was happening. Anders tore his eyes from the shocking sight to glance at his two younger companions. Hawke was flushing bright red, pressing the knuckles of one hand to his mouth like he was physically holding back one of his trademark off-color remarks. Sebastian was struck dumb, eyes wide and his mouth covered by his hand.

"I... I am so sorry," Sebastian murmured.

"Ohhh," the man on the bed moaned. "No, no, use the feather! The  _feather!_ " Anders had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back a sharp bolt of laughter, both at the absurdity of the situation and at the way that Sebastian's face practically glowed in embarrassment against his shining white armor.

"I didn't...think you would have to witness this," he said, his voice pained enough to kill the lingering threat of laughter. "I've known Ruxton Harimann my whole life. He was always quite a prude!"

"Hmm," Anders quipped, unable to help himself. "Have you considered rechecking your definition of 'prude?'" Hawke let out a sharp bark of laughter, and Anders returned Sebastian's narrowed blue eyes with a grin.

"Look on the bright side!" exclaimed Hawke, still beet red but triumphantly holding up a few sheets of paper. "We found the rest of the journal!" Sebastian, thankful for anything to look at that wasn't the old man being sucked off in the same room, snatched the pages from Hawke's hand with deft fingers. Blue eyes scanned the pages, and then widened in realization.

"There's an expansion under the estate," he said. "Flora noticed her mother spending more and more time down there. Maybe that's where we'll find Lady Harimann."

"Great! Then let's go, now, please," Hawke said, practically shoving Anders and Sebastian out the door and slamming it shut behind them.

"I truly am sorry," Sebastian murmured sheepishly. Anders couldn't help the chuckle that snuck out.

"I can't say I was expecting to see a naked man today, but it took my mind off the headache I've been fighting since we walked into this house," he said reassuringly.

"But- that's... I swear, none of them have ever acted like this before," he said, a plaintive despair and confusion in his voice.

"We know, Sebastian," Anders said.

"It's just the demons," Hawke said. "We just have to find out what's going on, and everything will be fine. Right, Anders?" Anders nodded. Sebastian sighed, the first breath Anders really saw him take since they set foot in the master bedroom.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go find Lady Harimann and finish this."

They went through the house door by door, fighting off shades and a couple of rage demons as they appeared. Finally, Sebastian found a new stairway leading down into a cellar they hadn't found before. As they rounded the last flight of stairs, they saw the three Harimanns waiting for them at the foot of the stairs.

"This might be the expansion we're looking for," Anders quipped, drawing his staff. He could feel the demon energy in the room, hot and oppressive. Flora Harimann stepped forward in front of her father and brother.

"Turn back now," she said.

"Oh,  _now_ you notice us," Hawke said.

"Flora, stop this," Sebastian pleaded. Anders spun his staff and pushed a wave of magic at them, feeling the force of it shiver down his arms and out through his hands as it broke through the heavy cloud of evil energy. The Harimanns staggered back, and then swooned and collapsed to the floor. Sebastian let out a cry and reached out, taking a step toward them. Anders held him back with an arm out in front of him, watching the three bodies. Two rage demons and a desire demon rose out of the three possessed Harimanns.

"Of course it can't just be easy," Hawke said, drawing his sword.

The battle was hot and grueling, with two rage demons fouling up the stagnant basement air, but Sebastian finally put an arrow through the heart of the desire demon, and Hawke pulled his blade out of a pile of hot embers and foul ichor.

"Is anyone hurt?" Anders asked, wiping sweat from his brow. Sebastian knelt next to the Harimanns, putting his fingers to their throats to make sure that they still lived (Anders felt a sting of pride to see him use something that he'd learned from his work helping in the clinic). Once he was assured that they were just unconscious, he folded his hands and began to pray softly over them.

Anders' attention was grabbed by Hawke letting out a hiss of pain, and he turned to see the warrior gripping his arm. Anders tucked his staff against his back and met Hawke, spreading his palms over the wound and channeling his magic to take the fire out of the burn.

"Thanks," Hawke said cheerfully. Anders nodded, then went to Sebastian.

"Are you hurt?" he asked gently, resting a hand on the back of Sebastian's shoulder. Sebastian shook his head.

"Let's keep going," he said, his expression hard as steel when he lifted his head and got to his feet. "We need to find Lady Harimann." Hawke took the lead through the hole in the wall that led down into what looked like some kind of tomb or cave. As they descended further beneath the estate, the new construction became shoddier and shoddier, until it disappeared completely and they were left finding their way through vaulted stone catacombs.

"Well. It looks like Lady Harimann has taken some bold risks with the decor," Hawke said, looking around and poking through the broken ancient relics. "Frankly, I think Mother would kill me if I decided to take this route with our cellar." Despite himself, that remark startled a small laugh out of Sebastian, there and gone, but Anders smiled a little.

They had to fight their way down through the caves, so deep that Anders was starting to wonder if his Warden senses weren't going to start tingling soon. A woman's voice echoed through the cavern.

"There!" Sebastian exclaimed, running toward it. Lady Harimann knelt before an altar to a desire demon. Anders grit his teeth, felt Justice turn like nausea in his stomach, as he reached out to keep Sebastian from going further.

"I need more power," the woman said. "I put that fool Goran Vael on the throne, but I need to marry him to Flora to consolidate my power!"

"You have already given me your husband and your children," the desire demon purred, running one hand from its curvaceous hip up to cup its ample, pierced breast. "What else do you have to offer?"

"Are we interrupting something?" Hawke asked. The demon and the woman both looked at them, and the woman rose from the ground.

"Who are-  _Sebastian?_ "

"How  _could_ you, Lady Harimann?" Sebastian asked, his voice rough and angry. "You were my mother's  _friend_. My family trusted you!"

"She wanted power," the demon said. "Is that so wrong?"

" _Murder_ is wrong!" Sebastian snapped. "You corrupted her.  _You_ did this!"

"Oh, murder is such a strong word," the demon said, holding its hands out placatingly. "I prefer to think of it as removing every obstacle in her way. And I could do the same for you, little Prince." Sebastian's eyes widened. "You and she aren't so different, after all."

"Don't listen to her," Anders blurted out. "You're nothing like her, Sebastian. Reclaiming your home doesn't mean making deals with a demon." Sebastian looked at him with a brief, faint smile.

And then he turned in one action and drew his bow, firing a swift arrow at the demon. The desire demon swatted the arrow aside and huffed.

"Very well," it said.

The fight was, mercifully, brief. In the end, Sebastian stood over Lady Harimann's body, and coldly pulled his arrow from her chest.

"Sebastian?" Anders asked.

"Let's go," the prince said, without turning to look at him. "I need to pray." Anders went quiet, watching him carefully, but he and Hawke said nothing. They made their way back to the cellar of the estate, thankfully less plagued by corpses and demons. The relentless pressure of demonic energy was gone now, which was at least one weight off of Anders' shoulders.

Ruxton and Brett Harimann were nowhere to be found, but Flora was conscious and waiting for them in the cellar.

"Sebastian, I am so... 'sorry' doesn't even begin to make up for what my mother did."

"You're right," Sebastian said coldly. "My family is dead because of your mother." His tone made Anders anxious, but they had killed the demon responsible. There was no chance for him to have been possessed.

"I know," Flora said, her shoulders slumping. She twisted her fingers together anxiously. "There's nothing I can do to deserve your forgiveness. But if I can help you regain your title in any way, I will do everything I can." The hard line of Sebastian's shoulders softened, slightly.

"I appreciate that," he said.

"You were a victim of your mother's ambition, too," Anders said. "It was her doing, not yours."

"Thank you, Serah," she said, turning to him. "But I still feel partly responsible. If I have to sell off all my family's assets, I'll do all I can to make amends." Sebastian nodded.

"I wish you luck," he said, and then walked past her. Hawke and Anders followed him out of the house. The dark and stormy clouds had disappeared, split apart by the rosy fingers of dawn, casting a cool light over the overgrown grounds. It only when they stood on the stone steps to the estate that felt like it was breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in a long time, that Anders was close enough to notice Sebastian's labored breathing.

"Sebastian?" he called, worried that he'd missed an injury. Sebastian's next inhale was shaky, raising his shoulders with it, and the sound that he let out as Anders stepped up to his side was thin and breathless. Anders lunged forward to catch him when he started to fall, gently lowering him to the marble stairs of the estate and wrapping his arms around him.

"Breathe," he said. "I've got you, Sebastian, you're alright." Sebastian shook his head, gulping down air, his hands gripping Anders' robes desperately. Anders recognized the cold grip of panic, he'd felt that inescapable fist close around him before as well. He rubbed Sebastian's back, resting his chin on top of Sebastian's head.

"Let it out," he coaxed him. "It's alright, just let it go." The wail that tore out of Sebastian was the most grief-stricken sound Anders had ever heard. He felt Justice prickle under his skin, answering to the anguish in Sebastian's soul-wrenching cry that echoed in all the broken places and patched seams of Anders' heart. Sebastian gripped his shoulder with one hand and the collar of his robes with the other, burying his face against Anders' chest as he sobbed out all the grief that he hadn't let himself show.

It was a sound that resonated in Anders. He knew well the grief of being completely alone in the world. He felt it when he was twelve years old, torn away from his family and turned over to the Circle. He felt it when the family he thought he'd found in the wardens turned on him by allowing templars to follow him. He felt it when he saw the brand on Karl's forehead and knew his beloved friend was gone forever. He wondered if Sebastian had let himself grieve for his family at all, or if it was only now that it was all over that he could let himself mourn.

Anders knelt there on the cold marble, rocking Sebastian in his arms and shushing him gently as full years worth of grief poured out of him, slowly stopping as he heard Sebastian's sobs start to slow and subside. Sebastian finally pulled back, wiping his eyes with his leather-gloved hands. Anders cupped Sebastian's flushed cheeks in one hand and wiped away the tears with his thumb. He met Sebastian's bloodshot blue eyes, and smiled gently.

"There we go," he said. Sebastian took a deep breath in, and let it out long and slow.

"Thank you," Sebastian said, his voice ragged, shakily getting back to his feet. Anders got up with him.

"All better?" Hawke called from the bottom of the stairs. He held the reins to all three of their horses, where he must have snuck past to get them while Sebastian was crying. "I think we need to stay in the village tonight and set back toward Kirkwall in the morning, if that works for you two."

"That works," Sebastian murmured, descending the stairs with Anders close by in case he lost his footing. By the time he reached his horse, he was steadier on his feet, and quick to sling himself up into the saddle. "Thank you both for coming with me. I need to be by myself and think for a little while." He spurred on his horse before Hawke and Anders could even mount up, hooves thundering out of the estate grounds.

"Think he'll spend four weeks in seclusion again?" Hawke asked, swinging himself up into the saddle and tugging the reins to hold the horse steady. "If I have to tell another lie to the Grand Cleric, I don't know if there'll be a spot for me at the Maker's side." Anders rolled his eyes fondly and mounted his horse.

"It was a long night," he said. "If you can get a smile out of him on our way back to Kirkwall, I think he'll be alright."


	2. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian, Hawke, and Anders return to Kirkwall after dealing with Lady Harimann.

When they returned to the inn that night, Sebastian retired straight to his room. Anders, who still felt a low thrum of Justice's energy resonating through him from the encounter with the desire demon, stayed in the tavern and nursed a tankard of ale, watching Hawke charm the leader of a merchant caravan into letting them hitch a ride to Kirkwall in the morning. It was remarkable, the sheer magnetic energy that the warrior possessed. He could charm the horn off a bronto with just one of his earnest smiles, Anders thought, watching him work his magic.

Hawke's ability to make a joke out of any situation, however crass it may sometimes be, reminded Anders of how he used to be, back before Justice. Back when he used casual flirtation and jokes to hide his fragile and easily broken heart.

Once their passage for the next morning was secured, Hawke came over and sat next to Anders, stealing a sip from his tankard and grinning with a moustache tinged white with foam. Anders chuckled and shook his head, taking his own drink back.

"You know, we've known each other for three years now, spent probably a third of that time in a tavern, and yet I don't think I've ever seen you drunk," Hawke mused, propping his chin on one hand. His ventures into making friends had left him flush with drink, making his brown eyes stand out a striking mahogany color accompanied by the flush on his nose and cheeks. He wasn't so deep in his cups yet as to make him properly drunk, but he was definitely tipsy.

"And you won't," Anders replied, taking another sip of ale.

"Why not?" Hawke asked, wiping his lip on the back of his glove.

"Because I can't, Hawke," he said. To prove the point, he met Hawke's eyes and tilted back his tankard, draining the rest in one long draught.

"Oh, shit," Hawke said. Anders laughed. "Is that a Warden thing, or a..." he glanced to the sides and then wiggled his fingers, presumably to indicate "magic" or possibly "Justice." "...thing?"

"A Justice thing, unfortunately," Anders said. "And just when my conscription wine was starting to get potent enough to eat through varnish, too."

"That sounds like something you just made up," Hawke said. "It's cruel to lie to a drunk man, Anders."

"It's another one of my Warden secrets, I'm afraid," Anders said. "But it is real. Warden's honor."

"You ran away from the Grey Wardens, though," Hawke pointed out.

"Fine, then. Healer's honor," he amended. "Though I will point out that even though I ran from the order, I'm still technically a Grey Warden."

"Semantics." Hawke slumped over, putting his head on Anders' shoulder and closing his eyes. Anders reached up and scritched his fingers through Hawke's beard underneath his chin, smiling fondly as he leaned into the touch like a cat. "Mmm. I can see the appeal of being a cat, now."

"You did well today, Hawke." Hawke tensed and reluctantly sat back up, his eyelids heavy and a soft yawn bitten back behind his teeth.

"I'd better go tell Sebastian we're leaving in the morning," he said, moving to stand up from the long bench. Anders pushed him back down by the shoulder, standing up and dismounting the bench.

" _I_ will," he said. He pressed part of a loaf of bread into Hawke's hands. "You eat this and get some rest. Doctor's orders."

"Fine," Hawke said grudgingly. He reached into his purse and pressed a handful of silver pieces into Anders' hand. "But I'm buying. Get something to eat and take it to him." Anders looked at the sum of silver in his hand, and then closed his fingers around it.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll see you in the morning, Hawke."

Despite the amount of money Hawke gave him, Anders used most of it to secure that they would have rations available for the week's journey back to Kirkwall. He bought three bowls of stew, including one to be taken over to Hawke, and took the other two on a tray up to Sebastian's room with two goblets of wine.

"Dinner, Sebastian," he called gently, tapping on the door with the toe of his boot. There was some shuffling from within, and then Sebastian opened the door, blocking the frame with his body.

"Thank you, Anders, but I'm not in much of a mood to eat," he said. Anders' heart broke at the sight of him. His armor was discarded, leaving him in his shirtsleeves and breeches, and his hair was a mess of auburn curls. His blue eyes stood out all the more from how bloodshot his eyes were.

"I didn't think you would be," he said. "But you haven't eaten since yesterday." Sebastian sighed, and reached out to take the tray, only to realize that there were settings for two. He looked back up at Anders, who felt his ears start to burn.

"It was easier to carry this way," he said. "I can go to my room with mine, if..."

"No, please," Sebastian said abruptly. "I...could use the company. Thinking myself in circles too long will do me no good." Anders smiled.

"In that case, I'm all yours," he said, and was surprised by the flutter he felt as the words left him. Sebastian's answering smile was small and sad, but he stood aside to let Anders in. Anders set the tray of food down on the nightstand, and passed one of the goblets to Sebastian as he sat down on the bed. Sebastian stared at the red liquid, and then smiled tightly and set it back on the tray, taking one of the bowls of stew instead.

"I think I should take the stew first," he said. Anders hesitated only a moment before he took up his own bowl, sitting down next to Sebastian on the bed.

"Hawke's been busy charming the caravan downstairs into giving us a ride to Kirkwall," he said, then took a bite. The stew was hearty and thick, the meat probably mutton if Anders had to guess. It smelled strongly of rosemary and thyme, and Anders watched Sebastian appreciate the aromatic smell as he mulled over the bite in his mouth.

"I've been contemplating if I should return to Kirkwall," Sebastian admitted, after he swallowed. "We're closer to Starkhaven now than Kirkwall, my mind tells me that I should ride to Starkhaven to retake my throne."

"But?" Anders asked.

"But my heart is tired of vengeance," Sebastian said. "I have little doubt that Goran would give up the throne with no bloodshed, but Lady Harimann might have had allies, where I have none." He took another bite of stew, and they sat there in pensive silence. "I miss Starkhaven. But I would miss Kirkwall, too." Sebastian looked at Anders, who felt like there was something he was missing in Sebastian's pleading blue eyes. His heart ached at the thought of Sebastian leaving. It was Sebastian's right to reclaim his throne, if that was what he wanted. It would be easier for Anders to see past the airs of a prince than the vestments of a brother.

But that just made it more dangerous.

"How would you entertain yourself without Hawke's grand adventures?" he asked as he took another bite, instead of admitting that he would miss Sebastian too. Sebastian laughed, resting the bowl of stew on his lap.

"That's a fair point," he said. "Though I would miss helping you in the clinic just as much." This time when their eyes met it knocked the breath out of Anders.

"The people of Darktown would miss you," he said, keeping his eyes on Sebastian's as he lowered his bowl back onto the tray.

"And their healer?" Sebastian asked, his voice low and curling around the words. Anders swallowed, feeling the heat of his layers tighten around him. He licked his lips, and sweltered when Sebastian's intense blue gaze flicked down to follow the motion. As if drawn toward the archer, he leaned in and raised a hand to hover next to Sebastian's cheek, brushing his knuckles across Sebastian's faintly prickly unshaven jawline.

"I..." he trailed off, unable to string two thoughts together as Sebastian started to lean in as well.

A knock at the door shattered the fragile moment, startling them both apart.

"Goodnight, Sebastian," Hawke's voice called through the door. Anders and Sebastian looked at one another with wide eyes. Sebastian put a finger to his lips, as he reached past Anders to set his bowl down on the tray again.

"Good night, Hawke," Sebastian called back. Anders' heart was racing, half expecting Hawke to call out a goodnight to him as well, his mouth full of giddy bubbles that cascaded up from a fountain in his chest. They heard the warrior's footsteps retreat down the hall, and as soon as they heard his door click closed a giggle burst out of Anders. The same kind of laugh poured from Sebastian, feeding off of each other until they were nearly in stitches. Anders' breath caught in his chest at how handsome Sebastian was as their helpless laughter tapered off. His hair was still mussed, but this time his face was flush with mirth, not with tears. It relaxed him. Reminded Anders of how young he was. Suddenly the difference in age between them hit Anders like a weight. He picked up one of the goblets and took a long sip of wine, feeling the hot burn of the alcohol and mourning that he could feel nothing more than that. He cleared his throat.

"I should... go," he said. Sebastian hesitated, looking absolutely gutted. After a moment, he nodded his agreement, and the relief that Anders felt was almost palpable. "If you need me, I'll be right across the hall," he reassured him, standing up and petting his hand through Sebastian's hair, getting the auburn curls to lie back off of his forehead. He wove a thread of creation magic into the soothing gesture, combing nothing more than a faint suggestion of sleep into his hair as his nails gently scraped along Sebastian's scalp. Sebastian let out a soft contented noise, and his eyelids fluttered. When Anders took his hand back, Sebastian yawned.

"Thank you, Anders," he said.

"Any time," Anders replied.

* * *

"What's the matter, Seeker? You getting bored with the story?" Cassandra tapped her foot impatiently and glowered at him, lips set into a thin line. Varric could see her jaw clenching faintly and could only imagine the force she was putting on her poor teeth.

"Did I tell you to pause, dwarf?" she asked. Varric chuckled, putting up his hands disarmingly.

"No, no," he said. "It's just, we've been at this for a while, you know, I think we both could use something to eat."

"You're trying to distract me," she said accusingly.

"Distract you? Never! But, if you insist we keep going... The next morning, Hawke paid for a full breakfast to help sop up the remainder of the alcohol from the night before. Fresh bread, eggs, bacon, pickled vegetables..." Her stomach growled. He paused, looking at her expectantly, and her glare only darkened. Without a word to him, she turned and stormed over to the door, opening it.

"Bring the prisoner a glass of water and some rations," she said. One of the soldiers he knew was standing outside the door traded her places, while presumably the other went to do as she asked. He tsked.

"I guess beggars can't be choosers," he grumbled.

* * *

In the morning, Sebastian greeted Hawke and Anders, all packed and ready to leave. He gave no indication that he'd spent any time the night before considering going to Starkhaven instead.

The closer that they got to Kirkwall on their return journey, the quieter all three of them got. Anders was thinking aboout Grace, about whether she had been able to sleep well without him and whether she'd behaved herself for Leandra. He thought about his clinic, and how the people of Darktown had fared without him. He had assistants, by now, who were trained well enough in the basics of chirurgery and medicines, so the people would not be fully without help. But he still worried that the rare exception would have come down while he was gone.

If they hadn't defeated a desire demon and spared most of its thralls, Anders had the feeling that Justice would have been much more anxious to return to Darktown.

Sebastian went quiet when they saw the walls of Kirkwall in the distance, and withdrew even more as they accompanied their caravan's delivery to the marketplace in Lowtown.

"Do you want to stop by the estate to get cleaned up and see Gracie before you go back to the Chantry, Sebastian?" Hawke offered, as they climbed the stairs to Hightown. Sebastian smiled thinly.

"No, thank you Hawke," he said. "I need to be by myself and pray for a while." Anders paused at the top of the stairs, watching Sebastian walk away toward the Chantry that towered over the city. His brow knit, and he frowned in worry. After a moment, Hawke noticed and put his big hand on Anders' shoulder.

"He'll be fine," he said. "I can't really blame him for needing to pray after that, honestly."

"Should I take Grace to see him later, do you think?" Anders mused, crossing his arms. He turned and looked at Hawke. "You don't mind if we take your cellar to get to Darktown, do you?" he asked. Hawke pat Anders' back and then walked on toward his house.

"Not at all, Anders. Are you going to wash up first, before you go?"

"Maybe, if Grace is asleep," Anders said. "I'm not too worried about it, I've certainly smelled worse than I do now."

"I bet. I had to get rid of the armor I wore in the Deep Roads, and sometimes I swear I can still smell it." Anders chuckled.

"Now you know the real reason you don't see many Grey Wardens in high society," he joked.

Hawke opened the door to his estate, and immediately they heard a peal of childish laughter, followed by the happy sound of a dog barking.

"Mother?" Hawke called.

"In the library, dear," Leandra called back. Hawke gestured in the direction of the bath, but Anders shook his head. His heart had started racing at the sound of his daughter's laughter, and now his whole body ached taut as a bowstring to see her.

Leandra was sitting in one of the padded library chairs, while Hawke's mabari played with Grace on the rug. Grace toddled toward the warm coals in the fireplace, and Ser Barksley grabbed her diaper gently with his mouth and dragged her back. Leandra, who raised three children including Hawke, just watched without intervening over the top of the book she was reading. Even Anders, who was much less experienced of a parent and still prone to new parent's panic, could tell that the fireplace wasn't hot enough to hurt her badly, even if Ser Barksley was not doing his due diligence.

"Oh, hello Anders," Leandra greeted, draping a ribbon into the spine of her book and setting it aside.

"Hello, Lady Hawke," Anders said politely. Grace looked up at the sound of his voice and her face lit up into a wide, sunny grin.

"Papa!" she squealed. This time she toddled past her four-legged babysitter and toward him, her arms outstretched to her sides for balance. Anders bent down and scooped her up into his arms, feeling something bright and warm take root and fill an empty place in his heart, the way it always did when he held her.

"Hello, Love," he said, kissing her on the cheek. She giggled and kissed him back, her little hands gripping his two-week-old beard hard enough to sting. "Were you a good girl for your Ana Hawke?" he asked.

"As always," Leandra said, rising to meet her son and his guest. "She's an absolute delight. She reminds me of Bethany at that age, just always full of smiles."

"I'm glad," Anders said. As quickly as she'd wanted to be picked up, Grace started to squirm to be put down, and Anders reluctantly let her, lowering her to the floor so that she could return to her canine playmate.

"Anders is going to use the bath before he takes Gracie home," Hawke said, bending down to kiss his mother on the cheek.

"Of course, dear, you're always welcome," Leandra said.

"Thank you," Anders said with a weary smile. "If you don't mind, I may stay for a while so I can take Grace to visit Sebastian later."

"If you tried to take her right now, I think you'd be taking Ser Barksley too. Isn't that right, boy?" Hawke's dog barked in response, stubby tail flicking wildly from side to side.

"We're happy to have you both," Leandra assured him. "I'll go tell Bodahn to put some tea on, it'll be ready when you boys are done with your baths."

"You're too good to us," Hawke said. Leandra smiled.

"Flattery didn't work when you were eight, Garrett Hawke, and it won't work now that you're twenty-eight either," she said, but she reached up and pulled her son's face down to kiss his cheek affectionately. Anders' heart warmed at the sight.

Anders went first in the bathroom, and by the time that he was done washing up Grace had crashed on the rug in the library, her head on Ser Barksley's stomach. The dog started wagging his tail when he smelled Anders enter the room, big eyes looking up at him. Anders chuckled, bending down to scratch the dog's ears.

"You did this to yourself," he whispered. "You're the one who tired her out with playing." Ser Barksley whined and then panted, as if reluctantly acknowledging that that was a fair assessment. Grace's fingers tightened into little fists against the short, wiry fur of Hawke's dog, and she stirred slowly.

"Papa?" she murmured.

"I'm here, my love," he whispered, running one hand from the crown of her head down to her back. She smiled and pushed herself up, wiping the sleep from her eyes with one little fist before she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled her face into his shoulder. He hugged her close. "Your Ana Hawke should have tea almost ready, Grace, are you hungry?" She nodded. He stood up with a grunt of effort, wincing at the slight creak in his knees. When he carried Grace into the dining room, Leandra smiled at them from where she was setting plates out on the table.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Much," he replied. "Thank you again for letting me use your bath."

"I don't even want to imagine the kind of messes that my son drags all of you through when you're out troublemaking," she said. "The least I can do is offer you a way to get clean and dry again." She went back to the kitchen, and Anders took a seat at the table, bouncing Grace on his knee. Garrett bounded in in his burgundy housecoat, his hair tousled and still damp and his thick, dark thatch of chest hair peeking out from the housecoat. Garrett had let him down easy years ago, but Anders was still constantly struck with how attractive Hawke was.

Merrill was a  _very_ lucky girl.

Grace was very intent on holding her food by herself, even if she wasn't quite as interested in actually eating it. He cut the toughest part of the crust off of her sandwiches, and as he ate the discarded crusts he had to keep reminding her to eat the sandwich, instead of just opening it and playing with the insides. She reached out for his cup of hot tea and he barely reached it before she did, using a little frost spell to cool it to a safer, lukewarm temperature. He helped her raise it to her lips and let her finish it for him, and Leandra smiled knowingly as she refilled his cup when he set it back down on the table.

The whole time he felt the pull of Justice at the edge of his mind, sharpening the nagging feeling of guilt that he should be at the clinic, or working on his manifesto, or doing something to further his causes. He found the feeling easier to resist with Grace in his lap, taking up his attention as he caught her sticky fingers a millisecond away from Leandra's fine tablecloth.

If Lady Harimann had known about Grace, she would have hunted her down. He could have easily lost his daughter, the one family he had, because of a lie that had been told to protect her.

After she was clearly done eating and Anders was ready to give up on trying to get her to eat just a little more, Hawke swooped in and plucked her from his lap much to the toddler's delight. With his daughter in Hawke's hands, Anders gave in to Justice's nagging, finding an old copy of his manifesto that he'd left in Hawke's house and annotating it painstakingly, leaving his revisions in strokes of ink.

Hawke sat on the floor with Grace, trying to teach her a clapping game. She giggled, messing up on purpose. Hawke chuckled with his deep, rumbling voice.

"Nooo," he said, reaching out and tickling her ribs with his big hands. She squealed, slapping at his forearms between peals of laughter, until he relented and let her sit back up. "We're going to do it right this time, Gracie, I know it. Are you ready?" She nodded. "Alright. One hand," he coached, holding up a hand for her to smack. She slapped the palm of his hand with her tiny one. "Good girl. Now, like this," Hawke said, clapping his hands together. She clapped, watching him intently. He beamed, holding out his other hand. "Now we do the other hand," he said. She giggled mischievously and reached out to slap his hand with the same one she'd used before. "Nooo!" he said, laughing, reaching out and flipping her upside down, dangling her back and forth while she shrieked in delight.

Anders realized with a start that he hadn't written anything in five minutes, engrossed as he'd been in watching Hawke with Grace. He felt a swell of fondness for the warrior that threatened to burn out of him from the inside. Hawke had gotten him into his share of trouble, but Anders couldn't imagine how miserable his life and Grace's would be if Hawke had never come into it. And every misstep he made Hawke always did his best to correct. It was what had brought Sebastian into Anders' life as well, and Grace's. Shaking his head fondly, he turned his attention back to his manifesto.

_The right for every man, woman, and child in Thedas to l.ive in freedom and to enjoy the rights of free men._

When it was time to wake Grace up from her nap, Hawke went to change back into his armor while Anders dressed his daughter. He wrestled her into a clean white chemise with lace edging on the sleeves, while she was still sleepy and pliant. He made sure that she used the chamber pot, and then he handed her over to Hawke at the front door.

"Let's go see your Da," Anders said, straightening her little sleeves. Grace lit up.

"Da!" she exclaimed. Anders smiled fondly, and reached out to tame the wild, fine strands of her blond hair as he kissed her cheek.

After an awkward encounter with the Grand Cleric when Grace was still a baby, it had been decided that Hawke should carry Grace when they visited the Chantry. It was "known," or assumed, that Hawke was the guardian of the little Princess of Starkhaven since her "uncle" was a Chantry brother.

At this time of day, the Chantry was quiet. Even with daylight filtering in through the huge stained glass windows, the near-silence set Anders ill at ease, like ants marching under his skin. It took him right back to the night that Karl had died, the cold, unfeeling statue of Andraste looming over the empty nave of the Chantry. He felt the sound of full plate like nails scraping against his very bones, even though the only plate mail in the Chantry right now was Hawke's.

It was Anders who spotted Sebastian, up at the base of the statue, kneeling in prayer. He nudged Hawke's arm in silence before approaching Sebastian.

"Oh Creator, see me kneel..." Sebastian's accent curled beautifully around the vowels, and flicked the hard consonants in a way that made the singing of it sound even more beautiful. It was no wonder the Chantry was most packed on the days he led the sermon.

Anders cleared his throat.

"Feeling any better?" he asked gently. Sebastian looked up and then stood with a sad, tight smile.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I keep praying for guidance, but He is silent."

"Well, if you needed someone who's decidedly not silent, then why didn't you say so?" Hawke asked. Anders watched the tension drain from his shoulders when he looked over at Hawke and saw Grace.

"Da!" she exclaimed, bouncing and stretching out to him. Without hesitation he reached out for her, scooping her from Hawke's arms.

"There's my little princess," Sebastian cooed, cupping the side of her face in one hand and kissing her cheek, then her temple, then her forehead. Grace grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him square on the tip of his nose, then wiggled her nose against his, making him chuckle. He shifted her weight to his hip, and she peered around the Chantry from her perch in his arms, awestruck at the shiny white marble and the brilliant burnished gold. Sebastian smiled sadly and brushed her hair back from her face.

"My second brother had just welcomed a son," Sebastian said. "The babe was found under my sister-in-law's body. She died shielding him from the mercenaries. I look at Grace, and I think of my sister and my nephew. My brother, slain in the hallway outside the nursery." Grace looked up at Sebastian when his voice cracked, her blue eyes bright with worry. He bounced her on his hip, letting her little hands wander over his shining white armor.

"We won't let anything happen to her," Hawke said.

"Aye, but my family had guards, too, and servants. If they weren't enough to protect my family from harm, then..." Anders ached to hold Sebastian like he had back outside the Harimann estate. But they were back in Kirkwall now, and the city's eyes were on them everywhere they went. He couldn't use the same casual touch and affection that they could share in private.

"The mercenaries are dead," he reminded Sebastian instead. "And the woman and demon who hired them."

"That they are," Sebastian agreed with a small smile. He looked back at Grace when the toddler's little hand touched his cheek, and laughed at the wet baby kiss she planted on his chin. He kissed her forehead, his hand lingering in the baby hairs on the crown of her head.

"I shouldn't be so wrapped up in my own worries that I ignore the greatest blessing the Maker has given me," he murmured, pressing his forehead to Grace's. Anders was surprised she was tolerating being held this long so soon after a nap. He wouldn't be shocked if she could somehow sense that Sebastian needed to hold her right now. "Blessings, I should say," Sebastian said, and Anders felt heat flood to his face when he realized that Sebastian was looking at him with a disarmingly meaningful glance that flayed him raw down to the bone. The look itself ought to have been enough to immediately draw the ire of the patient sisters milling in the cathedral around them. He smiled, feeling his heart swell with that dangerous affection again.

"I'm glad she can have such an attentive uncle to raise her," he said, reminding Sebastian reluctantly of the roles they were beholden to act, the roles that had been Hawke's idea but that Sebastian had been glad to accept. Sebastian's smile fell, until he looked back at Grace.

"Even if we weren't blood, I doubt it could change how much I love her," he said. Anders caught his meaning and smiled, warmed from head to toe. He could even feel Justice like a contented cat, curled up and purring in the middle of his chest.

"Not to interrupt this tender moment, but Mother is expecting me home," Hawke said. Sebastian sighed.

"Right," he said reluctantly, moving to pass Grace back to the warrior. Grace shook her head and wrapped her pudgy little arms around Sebastian's neck.

"You want to stay with your Da?" Anders asked. She nodded. Sebastian's smile returned full force, and Anders felt his heart skip a beat.

"It sounds like her Highness has decided," he said. "I wouldn't mind watching her for a little while. If, that is, you don't think she'll be missed too dearly?"

Justice roused at his turmoil, reminding him of the clinic, and his manifesto, and all the work he could get done if someone else was watching Grace for a few hours. But at the same time, while he knew that Grace was too young to manifest her magic, a part of him lived in constant fear that the first time she did he wouldn't be there to protect her.

He realized that he'd been thinking too long when the smile started to fade from Sebastian's face and he reached up to take Grace's tiny hand in his like he was about to start prying her free.

"If Hawke can come get her later..." Anders said suddenly, trailing off.

"I can bring her home," Sebastian said, looking at Anders, not at Hawke. Anders smiled.

"Great!" exclaimed Hawke. "You behave, Gracie. You're in the Maker's house." Sebastian chuckled, bouncing the toddler up higher on his hip.

"She isn't the one I'm worried about getting into trouble," he said. Hawke gasped and laid a hand on his breastplate in mock offense.

"I've never gotten in trouble in my entire life. Usually it just finds me at the least convenient moment," he protested. Sebastian shook his head fondly.

"I'll bring little Grace back home in a while," he promised Anders. Then to both of them, he added: "I'm glad you brought her to see me. Thank you."

"Of course," Hawke said. "You seemed like you needed some time with her."

"I do. I always want it, even if I don't necessarily need it."

"We'll see you later, Sebastian," Anders said.

"Aye, later. Take care," Sebastian said. "Wave good-bye, Grace," he cooed.

"Bye-bye," Grace said cheerfully, waving her little hand back and forth.

It turned out to be a good thing that Grace was safely in Sebastian's care. His assistants were swamped, and therefore overjoyed to see him returned safely. He spent the afternoon hard at work healing the sick and mending the injured. Eventually, he was finally able to let his assistants go for the day, after they had been able to help him start getting the clinic supplies set to rights. While the freshly-washed bandages hung drying around the clinic, he sat down to work on his manifesto for a few minutes.

An hour passed, and then two, and the sun had passed out of the high window, stretching the shadows across the clinic floor. Anders only lifted his head from his writing when he heard the door to the clinic click open. He dipped his quill back into the well and stood, reaching for his staff whether to heal or to protect.

It turned out, neither was necessary.

"Papa!" Grace squealed. Once inside the clinic, Sebastian bent to set her on the floor and she ran straight to Anders. He grinned and crouched, opening his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and he wrapped her up in a hug, scooping her up from the floor.

"There she is! Hello, Love, did you have a nice day?"

"Yeah!" she said.

"Your daughter charmed sweets out of near every sister in the Chantry, and definitely every noble lady in Hightown," Sebastian said. He kept his distance, standing nearer to the door, but smiled.

"Good to know that at least my charm went somewhere," Anders said.

"Oh, I think you've plenty of charm to spare yet," Sebastian countered. He glanced around, and his face fell a little at the emptiness of the clinic. "Ready to turn the lanterns out, then?" he asked.

"I was thinking of leaving them on for maybe an hour or two more," Anders said. He bounced Grace on his hip while he looked around for something for Sebastian to do. There was  _always_ something to do, and yet... "If you have time to spare, I could use some help winding these bandages," he said, reaching up to rub one between his fingers to see if it was dry.

Sebastian picked up a basket and started to gather them from the line they were hung on, while Anders stoked the fire with a wave of his hand. Grace clapped at the display.

"One day you'll be able to do that too," he told her. She tugged her beaten and worn lamb plush to her chest and looked up at him with wonder. "Yes, and when you become a big girl, Papa will teach you how to use it," he said.

"How big?" she asked.

"Mmm, I'm not sure," Anders said truthfully, as he sat down next to Sebastian and settled Grace in his lap. "But we'll know when you're big enough."

"How old were you?" Sebastian asked.

"Pardon?"

"I just assumed, as her only earthly parent, that we could measure when to expect her magic to appear," he explained. "Is it a rude question to ask a mage?"

"No, I don't...think it is," Anders said. "At least, I'm not offended, it just isn't a question that I'm used to." He considered how best to answer, watching Sebastian's archer's fingers nimbly roll the bandages. Grace explored the seams of her little plush lamb with her fingers, stretching them and plucking her fingernail down the barely-visible threads. Anders gently took her hands with his and directed her on how to play nice with her lamb instead. "I don't think that I make a good example, though. I was a late bloomer, I was twelve years old before I showed any sign of magic."

"And you say that that's late?" Sebastian asked. "That's still just a boy." Anders ran his fingers through Grace's straight blond wisps of hair, carefully combing out the knots without pulling.

"Most children who are brought to the Circle are too young to remember their families," he said quietly. "Sometimes that's the only thing that keeps them from trying to escape. The prison you know will always seem safer than the freedom that you don't." Sebastian frowned, twisting the end of the next bandage around his fingers to get the roll started. Anders reached around Grace to start rolling one of the other bandages, letting the silence settle between them. As Anders tied off the end of his roll of bandages and set it aside in the basket, he picked up the next one and tugged, only to meet resistance when he found that it was the other end of the one that Sebastian was working on.

"I was just thinking," he said conversationally, reaching instead to stir the pot of elfroot potion that had been slowly simmering on the fire. "This is much nicer than the first time that the three of us sat here like this."

"When Hawke introduced us?" Sebastian asked, a slight smile coming to his lips. "I nearly lost my eyebrows that day, I recall." Anders laughed, then looked at him with a soft expression.

"Your eyebrows are safe with me, Sebastian," he teased.

"Aye, and the rest of me too, I know," Sebastian replied. "I'm glad you forgave me."

"I'm glad you came back." Grace yawned, turning in Anders' lap so she could rest her head against his chest. Sebastian pulled the finished roll of bandages off of his fingers and set it aside, before he reached over and gently brushed Grace's cheek with the back of his knuckles.

"So am I," he said.

Distantly, the Chantry bells rang out the hour. With a rueful smile, Sebastian stood from his seat.

"I should be going," he said. Anders fought back the offer to let him stay, gently bundling Grace up in his arms so that he could stand to see him off.

"Travel safe," he said.

"I will," Sebastian promised. "Take care." Anders smiled silently, knowing he could promise no such thing. Sebastian bent down and kissed Grace on the crown of her head, his hand lingering on the crown of her head. "Be a good girl for your Papa, Grace," he said. "I'll be back again before you know it." She leaned out and whined when he pulled back before she could give him a kiss, so he bowed his head back down with a lovely, musical chuckle and let her plant a farewell kiss on his cheek.

When Sebastian straightened up, he and Anders locked eyes.

"Until next time," he said.

"Maybe make it less than a fortnight this time," Anders replied. "The people of Darktown might forget your face, you've been absent so long.

"I'll do my best," Sebastian said. "Do you want me to put out the lanterns?" Anders shook his head.

"Leave them burning," he said. "I'm not ready for sleep just yet. Even if Grace is." Sebastian nodded. With one last longing glance, he left the clinic, closing the door behind him. Anders waited a moment, watching ready to welcome him just in case he turned around and decided to stay. But the clinic door stayed closed, and Anders looked down to realize that Grace had fallen asleep in his arms.

"Come on, little one. Let's put you to bed."


End file.
